Who Am I?
by Eizoku
Summary: Blaise has lived with a foster family since she was born. Now that she knows about the wizarding world, she wants to know exactly who she is.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I am only writing this once, so this applies to the whole story. I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter, because I am most definitely NOT JK Rowling. *raises eyebrows* I don/t see how you could possibly think I am, because she is obviously the better writer. (Occasionally there will be actual quotes from the first book, as this story takes place during it.)  
  
A/N: This is my second try at a HP fic. My first was "Child of Memories," and people seemed to like that, so I've decided to put up another one I have partly written. Lol. Just warning you, the beginning of this story isn't very happy, but the rest of the tory should be much more lighthearted.  
  
Summary: This story follows the mysterious Blaise Zabini during her first year at Hogwarts - beginning a little before she is born to just after the end of her first year. All her life she has lived with a foster family, and now that she knows about the world where her parents were from, she wants to know exactly who she is. All she has that belonged to her past is a silver locket with moving photographs of her mother and father inside, with a strange symbol on the front - the same symbol that has been on her right shoulder ever since she was born; and her mother's engagement ring that she wears on her right forefinger.  
  
Who Am I?  
  
Written By Eizoku (same as Elfmoon87)  
  
Prologue  
  
"I have to leave. If I don't leave now, he's going to suspect something."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I can't have him find out about you! He'd force you to join!"  
  
"I won't let you go. Don't leave."  
  
"I have to. Just promise me something."  
  
"What-?"  
  
"Promise me that you'll go live somewhere far away from this chaos. That you'll be happy and safe and forget about me."  
  
"No. I can't do that. I can't fo-"  
  
"_Promise_ me! You have to get out of this war!"  
  
"I.I promise. But where will I go?"  
  
"Make a life as a Muggle woman. You managed to act as a witch; I know you can act as a Muggle. They are that much different - they are both humans and therefore act similarly. When you find a place to live, _don't_ tell me where it is, or I might go looking for you, and everything will be ruined. You mustn't contact me - be it by owl, fire, or sending."  
  
"No!"  
  
"When this war is over, I will contact you. I have no idea how long that will be, but when it is safe, I will let you know. And then we can finally get married like we had planned to."  
  
"P-please.."  
  
"I love you. Have faith, love."  
  
After a brief kiss, he Disapperated into the frosty January night air.  
  
"I love you too.." She whispered. A dark hand seemed to close over her heart. She knew they would never see each other again.  
  
Never.  
  
She broke down and wept, her long, wavy tresses falling around her.  
  
A week later she moved into a small house in a Muddle neighborhood. She refused to leave the island to go across the ocean, or even just to the mainland. After a month had passed, she discovered she was pregnant. This information gave her some happiness and hope, knowing that she would still have a bit of her love with her.  
  
She soon was approached by one of her new neighbors, wanting to welcome her to the neighborhood. They came and knocked one particularly cold and dry day when she wasn't feeling very well.  
  
She opened the door to a young couple that looked a year or two older than she was. She forced a smile.  
  
"Hello, may I help you?" she asked politely.  
  
The light-brown-haired woman spoke first, reaching out to shake hands. "I'm Laurel Zabini, and this is my husband, Elliot."  
  
"Nice to meet you." They shook hands. "I'm Ameide Diere." Then remembering human manners, "Please come in." She stepped aside to allow them entry, and they took off their winter coats. She led them into the plain kitchen to pour some tea that she had boiled shortly before. There was a rectangular wooden counter in the center on the room, with some old stools arranged around it. There were no decorations of any kind in the room; only the necessities such as dishes, cleaning supplies, and food.  
  
"How have you been adjusting to your new home?" Elliot asked conversationally, taking a blue mug of tea from Ameide.  
  
Ameide shrugged as she handed another mug to Laurel. "Fine, I suppose. I.have never had my own house before. I was staying with my fiancé.." She broke off abruptly and put her cup down by the sink.  
  
Laurel also put down her tea and stepped closer to Ameide. "Are you alright?" she asked in concern as she placed a hand on Ameide's left shoulder.  
  
Ameide forced another smile. "I'm fine. Just.just a little out of it."  
  
Laurel didn't press the subject, assuming that Ameide's husband-to-be had left her for someone else. She didn't want to reopen fresh wounds. She wanted to be friends with this strange new neighbor who had hair that was a deep maroon, like the leaves on a Japanese maple tree, and steel blue eyes that seemed to have a silver mist in their irises.  
  
The three stood there for a minute, sipping their tea in silence. Then Elliot spoke.  
  
"Ameide, if you'd like, Laurel could show you around the neighborhood and town tomorrow-"  
  
"Yeah!" Laurel agreed cheerfully. "I don't have anything planned, and we could have lunch at this nice little café I know."  
  
Ameide looked up, trying to forget her despair. "That would be nice. And I heard it is supposed to be a little warmer tomorrow as well."  
  
"Then it's settled! Let's see.how about I come over here at eleven?"  
  
"Sure. And if we could look around for a job I could do.."  
  
"Of course. I'll help you find someplace," Laurel assured her as they headed toward the door, pulling on their coats.  
  
"It was lovely meeting you, Ameide," Elliot said, shaking her hand once more.  
  
"It was a pleasure, Elliot, Laurel."  
  
The next day, Ameide and Laurel had an enjoyable day, and they learned many things about each other that were the same: they both loved plants and trees, though Ameide didn't tell Laurel the real reason behind her liking; they both enjoyed reading and writing, and they both were pregnant with the baby due in late October. Once Ameide was shown around, they found and open job at the garden shop in town. It wouldn't provide a lot of money, but she didn't need very much because her fiancé had given her a good amount to help her start her new life with, and she would be with the things she loved most in life (other than her fiancé and unborn child) - nature. She knew that the plants the shop sold that season would be the healthiest they had ever been when they got a taste of her power.  
  
Laurel and Ameide became very close friends over the months, telling each other secrets and teasing each other over whose stomach was growing faster. They went to their check-ups together and after a while found out they were both going to have daughters. However, Ameide knew this information before the doctor told her, because her kind of people was able to tell it for their self.  
  
That was one of the secrets that Ameide didn't tell anyone. When Laurel asked how her hair was the strange crimson-brown of maroon, when she never dyed it, Ameide told her that her hair had been maroon ever since she was born. The truth - that was the color her hair turned when she took her human form. When asked about the black "tattoo" of a tangled knot of a thorn-covered vine and three black pearls in the tangle that was on her right shoulder, she said she'd had it for a few years, which was partly true. It had been a "tattoo" for the last few years, but before then it was three black pearls embedded in her shoulder with thorns curling around the pearls and her shoulder. She told Laurel the truth about her silver locket that was around her neck, though. The locket had been given to her by her fiancé, designed specially for her. The locket that hung on a silver chain was oval shaped, and there were minute emeralds forming the design of her tattoo on it's front. Ameide never opened the locket when Laurel was around, because inside were two wizard photographs: on the left side, one of her fiancé, and a picture of herself on the right.  
  
The only person who knew all of these things was her fiancé.  
  
And she hadn't heard anything from him yet. She longed to let him know about their baby, but she knew what she would be risking if she contacted him. She would be risking not only her fiancé's and her lives, but also the lives of her baby, Elliot, Laurel, and their baby. She couldn't throw all of their lives away. So she waited patiently for his word.  
  
One day in September, Ameide and Laurel sat on the Zabini's back porch with glasses of iced tea, debating good naturedly about what their daughters' names would be. Ameide decided on Blaise Velyn, and Laurel on Cara Lynn. They happily imagined how their daughters would be best friends - almost like sisters.  
  
Then, on the twenty-ninth of October, Laurel went into labor. Elliot drove her to the hospital, and brought Ameide along just in case, and Ameide wanted to be there for Laurel anyway. Later that day, Cara Lynn Zabini was born. They stayed in the hospital that night, Elliot sleeping in a chair against Laurel's bed, and Ameide in another bed that the doctor had brought in for her. Later in the morning the next day, as they were getting ready to go home, Ameide went into labor.  
  
However, things didn't seem to be going as well for her as they did for Laurel. She was still in labor that night. She wondered if it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't in her true form. Oh, if only she was in a wizard hospital!  
  
Then finally, as day was dawning through the window on the thirty-first of October, Blaise Velyn Diere was born. She had the same silver mist in her blue eyes, but the blue was so dark it was almost black. Her thin hair seemed to be the same maroon as Ameide's, but there were a few strands of a darker color - either brown or black, it was too early to really tell. The strangest thing, though, was that Blaise had the same unusual tattoo on her shoulder as Ameide had.  
  
Ameide wasn't doing very well. She had lost a lot of blood and was very weak. As she nursed Blaise, she took the locket from around her neck and placed it over Blaise's head. A little while later, when the nurse was taking Blaise from Ameide so Ameide could get into a more comfortable position since she was so tired, there were shouts from outside the room. The doctor opened the door to find out what was going on, and a small barn owl flew in through the doorway. The doctor gave a shout of surprise and slammed the door.  
  
The owl flew straight to Ameide and dropped a piece of parchment into her lap. Then it flew to the window and tapped its beak on the glass. Ameide glanced up at the owl for a brief second, and the window - which had previously been closed and locked - shot open. The owl flew outside, and the window shut and locked itself.  
  
Ameide reached for the small piece of paper, all of the color - what was remaining of it - gone from her face. She picked it up and turned it over so the words were facing her, and silently read the small note with trembling hands:  
  
_By the time this reaches you, I am probably not alive. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and always will. Please live your life in the happiness I can't have. I must leave you now. Erase me from your mind. Goodbye.  
  
Your Love_  
  
Her hand crumpled the paper, and she screamed in misery and agony. Her head fell back against the pillow, and she managed to look at Laurel and whisper weakly while grasping her wrist with the hand that was holding the crumpled note, "Take care of Blaise for me. Give.her my ring. Tell her I love her.." Her hand dropped, and the note fell to the floor. Her eyes stared out, unseeing and glassy. The monitor's steady beep suddenly became a long, high-pitched _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_  
  
Everyone stared at Ameide in horror.  
  
"No. No! Ameide!" Laurel cried. "You can't."  
  
Blaise started to cry. Laurel handed Cara to Elliot and took Blaise from the nurse. "It's alright, it's alright, Blaise," she tried to soothe, tears streaming down her own face. Ameide had been the best friend she'd ever had. Still comforting Blaise, she bent down and picked up the note. Reading it, she realized that Ameide's fiancé hadn't left her in the way Laurel had thought, but she was still very confused. She remembered the request Ameide made and carefully removed the unusual engagement ring from her finger after gently closing Ameide's eyes.  
  
The ring was a thick band of dark ebony with silver, spidery-thin thorned vines tangled around the ring. She unclasped the necklace form Blaise's neck, put the chain through the ring, and returned it to its place on Blaise.  
  
"Elliot," she began, turning to her husband, "let's adopt Blaise. I know it would make Ameide happy to know Blaise will grow up with a loving family. Blaise and Cara can be sisters."  
  
Elliot stepped forward with Cara in his arms, and he gently embraced Laurel, Blaise, and Cara all at once. "I agree with you, sweetheart. Ameide would have wanted it. She was like family to us."  
  
They had a small funeral for Ameide with some other friends; they didn't know how to find anyone form her family. There was a simple headstone over her grave; on it were the words:  
  
Ameide Diere  
  
June 13, 1958 - October 31, 1980  
  
A loving and understanding friend who  
  
will always live in the hearts of her  
  
closest friends.  
  
Shortly after, the Zabini's went through the procedure to make Blaise their legal daughter. Finally she was Blaise Velyn Zabini. When she was older, they agreed that she could choose to take back her original surname if she wanted.  
  
Every few months, they would come back to the cemetery to tidy up the headstone, placing new flowers before it. One day, in the beginning of December when there wasn't any snow on the ground yet, they were dismayed to find a two-inch-high tree beginning to sprout from just in front of the headstone. Trees weren't supposed to start growing at the end of autumn, and they weren't supposed to grow over someone's grave.  
  
However, when Elliot bent to pull the shoot out of the ground, Blaise made a noise of protest: wailing and kicking since she couldn't yet speak. The instant Elliot stood up without touching the sprout, Blaise became calm again. They left it there, assuming it would die in the coming winter. But it didn't, and in the spring, it was about five inches tall. It grew unnaturally fast for a tree in winter.  
  
During the first year of Cara and Blaise's lives, the Zabini's kept hearing about people dying in freak accidents, mysteriously disappearing, or suddenly going insane. Everyone was becoming nervous. Some people told stories of black-cloaked people that went around hurting innocent people. Then, on Blaise's first birthday and one year after Ameide's death, something happened, though Laurel and Elliot had no idea of what it could have been. Owls were flying every which way - in the middle of the day! The very next day, Elliot heard on the radio how there had been a large gas explosion that killed thirteen people.  
  
A week after everything seemed to calm down, Laurel noticed a solitary owl flying around, apparently in search of something it couldn't find. It disappeared for a few days, before returning. This time it seemed to find what it was looking for, and it only stayed for an afternoon before flying away again, carrying a note attached to its leg.  
  
Midway through November, when Laurel was taking Blaise up to see her mother's grave, she noticed a tall figure by Ameide's headstone on the hill. The stranger was wearing a long black cloak and had his hood up. Remembering the stories about this kind of people, Laurel stayed out of sight and waited for the stranger to leave. She didn't want to get involved with the stories, if there was a chance they were true.  
  
In the cemetery, up by the headstone, the man in the black cloak stood and stared at the words inscribed on the stone. Then he sank to his knees and sobbed in silent misery. He reached out and gently touched the small tree that was growing before the stone. It was a foot tall now.  
  
"Oh, Ameide," he wept. "I shouldn't have sent you that letter. Someone found out about me, and I was so sure that the person would tell Him, but the person died in a fight before he could tell. I'm so sorry. Grow strong and healthy for me, little one. I will always love you. I only wish it hadn't worked out like this. Farewell, love."  
  
He stood up and walked out of the cemetery, passing Laurel and Blaise on the way. If he had been able to see Blaise's hair, he might have paused, but Blaise was wearing a blue knitted hat to keep out the November chill, so he didn't notice anything strange about her. He assumed that Blaise was Laurel's daughter. He nodded politely to the pair as they passed on the path but then continued on his way.  
  
As the man passed Laurel and Blaise, Blaise reached a small pale hand toward the man. "Dada," she whispered.  
  
"No, no, sweetie, that is a stranger," Laurel corrected softly, not wanting to offend the foreboding-looking man.  
  
"Nah Ebby-ot dada," Blaise shook her head as they approached the headstone on the hill. "Dada."  
  
Laurel sighed. "I'm sorry, Blaise, but your father is alive anymore." She put Blaise down in front of the tree and began to replace the wilted flowers with fresh ones. Blaise was a very smart girl, and she had somehow figured out that Laurel and Elliot were not her real parents. She didn't really understand though, even when Laurel tried to explain it to her. Her baby mind couldn't comprehend the information, but she knew her mother was dead.  
  
As Laurel brushed off some stray fallen leaves from the area around the stone, Blaise sat happily in front of the young tree. She carefully stroked the thin trunk of the growth. "Mumma, hebbo!" she cooed to the tree.  
  
"Blaise, that little tree is not your mother; it is only a tree," Laurel told her sadly.  
  
Blaise frowned, her black eyebrows furrowing her little forehead. "Iz! Iz, iz!" she ordered as sternly as she could.  
  
Laurel picked up Blaise and went home once she had finished cleaning the area around the stone and the tree. She wished she knew more about Ameide. Though the two had been close friends for nine months, she realized that she didn't know very much at all about Ameide. What was she going to tell Blaise when she started asking questions? Laurel discovered that she wasn't able to open the locket when she was going to show Blaise what was inside, but she knew that the locket was able to be opened; she had caught Ameide looking at whatever was inside a few times.  
  
Laurel would just have to raise Blaise as well as she could. She was happy that Cara and Blaise had seemed to like each other. She looked optimistically toward the future of her two girls; not knowing of the trouble Blaise would cause her family in years to come.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Well, how'd you like it? Questions, comments, criticism? I will appreciate any of that! If you want a reply to your review, please leave your e-mail address (or let me know if it's on your profile) for me to contact you. If you don't want a reply, don't bother, and I'll just read your review without a response. This has worked out wonderfully with my other story, so there shouldn't be any problems. Thanks very much, and please review! 


	2. Chapter 1: The Strange Things About Her

Who Am I?  
  
Written By Eizoku  
  
Chapter 1: The Strange Things About Her  
  
As the years wore on, Laurel and Elliot began noticing that something wasn't.right.about Blaise. It didn't have anything to do with her appearance, though that was strange as well. Blaise's hair was much like Ameide's, only her curls were more limp than her mother's, and there were streaks of black amongst the maroon-red tresses. Blaise's skin was much paler than that of Ameide's, who had had rather tan skin. And Blaise's eyes sometimes scared people. When she was upset or angry, the dark blue seemed to churl with the mists of silver, just like building clouds before a terrible storm.  
  
What _did_ cause them to think something was abnormal about their adopted daughter were the things she did and was able to do.  
  
Once, when Blaise was three years old, she opened the locket that hung around her neck. The chain still held Ameide's engagement ring on it as well. She had brought the locket over to Laurel, who had been doing the dishes at the time. Laurel dried her hands and sat down at the dining room table with Blaise on her lap, and they both looked at what was inside the locket.  
  
Attached to the sides of the locket were two photographs of two different people. Laurel was shocked to see that they were both moving. The people smiled at Blaise, warm affection showing in their eyes.  
  
On the right panel of the silver locket was a photograph of Ameide, her wavy-curly maroon hair cascading over her shoulders and most likely to her waist, though Blaise and Laurel could only see down to just below her shoulders in the picture. Ameide's bright blue eyes were filled with a happiness that Laurel couldn't remember ever seeing in Ameide before. She wore a deep blue, crushed velvet garment that hung from the edges of her shoulders. In the background of the photograph, colorful autumn leaves floated and twirled in the breeze of the clear day.  
  
The other photograph on the left panel, which seemed to have been taken on the same day and in the same place, showed a handsome young man who Laurel assumed was Blaise's father. He had long, straight black hair and black eyes. He had sharp features and very pale skin. Laurel had wildly wondered if he was a vampire. He wore a dark, forest green shirt. It seemed to be made of an expensive material.  
  
"Daddy!" Blaise had exclaimed; she didn't seem to think the moving pictures were unnatural at all.  
  
The man smiled kindly at Blaise. There was pride in his expression, as if he knew Blaise was his very own little girl.  
  
By the time Cara and Blaise had started school, Blaise's hair reached down to midway between her rib cage and her hips. However, it wasn't all the same length. Blaise had somehow gotten a hold of the scissors when she was four, and no matter how hard she tried, Laurel couldn't get it back to normal. Blaise's bangs were to her chin, the hair on the top sides of her head were to the middle of her neck, the bottom layer on the sides were to her shoulder blades, and the back was to between her rib cage and hips. Blaise usually had each length braided in a separate braid, so she had six braids - her bangs were left to hang.  
  
At school, Blaise was about an inch or two shorter than everyone else. She also seemed to get sick a lot more often than the other children. Then strangest thing was that her health seemed to coincide with the weather. When it was very dry out, no matter what the temperature, she seemed weak, and was prone to becoming dizzy. However, when it was humid, she was very comfortable, even when everyone was complaining about it being unbearable when it was hot and humid. During the winter, she was sluggish, but during the spring and summer she was very active. Autumn was an in- between season - when she seemed the most normal.  
  
In school, Blaise didn't seem to care much for the other children, and they occasionally mocked her, calling her Cara's "wittle baby sister!" Cara was much taller than Blaise, though she was born only two days prior to her. During their first year of school together, they began to grow apart. Cara began hanging out with her new friends, leaving Blaise by herself. However, Blaise didn't seem to even try making friends of her own. Sometimes she frightened the other children.  
  
Once, when a girl who had been teasing Blaise turned to go back to play with her other friends, she tripped on a root that hadn't been in her path a second before. Another time, a group of her classmates had been pelted with acorns from the trees above - when there was no breeze at all. When they were growing bean plants for science, all of the other children's plants were small and sickly, while Blaise's plant grew tall and healthy. Blaise was also quite intelligent - far surpassing her peers. However, she didn't do anything about it. She hated school and always seemed to be getting into trouble.  
  
Blaise often voiced her opinion of things; she didn't care what others thought. Sometimes she talked back to her teachers - usually in a sarcastic manner. And, many times, she ran away from school during recess. But she didn't run home. She ran to the cemetery, which was only a block and a half away from the school.  
  
Blaise spent a lot of her time in he cemetery. Cara often told her she was morbid and that she practically lived in the cemetery. She had been going there ever since she could figure out how to get there from the school and then back home.  
  
It had been ten years now since she had come into the Zabini's care - almost eleven.  
  
Blaise sat at her desk in school, tapping her pencil on her desk in boredom. A finished test lay before her, facing down. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow propped on the wooden surface of the desk.  
  
"Miss Zabini, would you discontinue tapping your pencil on your desk? There are still people working," the teacher said suddenly.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Blaise replied, rolling her eyes. She put down her pencil and began playing with the ring on her right forefinger. It was her mother's engagement ring. As soon as her fingers had grown enough, she had begun wearing it on her finger instead of on her locket's chain. Blaise knew there was something special about both her locket and ring. She had learned that photographs don't move; or at least they shouldn't, anyway. She found this out when she had asked her teacher because they were reading a book about a young boy who wanted to do photography. There had been a shocked silence after she asked, "How do they get photographs to move?"  
  
There were a few giggles.  
  
"What are you talking about, Blaise," her teacher had asked. "Photographs _don't_ move, unless you are talking about a movie.?"  
  
Blaise had shaken her head.  
  
"Well then, I don't know what you are talking about, because photos don't move. It isn't possible."  
  
Now, as for her ring.well; Blaise wasn't quite sure, but she believed that the silver of the vines seemed to move. The vines didn't move, but the material making them up did; just like water flowing through a maze. However, she didn't think that was possible. The only silver liquid she could think of was mercury, and that was poisonous to touch - not to mention that it would evaporate if left alone. Also, how would the liquid stay on the ring? Wouldn't it run off of it because of the earth's obvious stronger gravity?  
  
Blaise sighed and glanced out the window. It was clear, sunny, and hot outside. The trees were lush and green out in the schoolyard. It was a muggy June day, and everyone was moaning about it. Blaise, however, was completely fine. She had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail; even though her hair was different lengths, each length was long enough to be caught in a hair band (with the exception of her bangs, which fell in her face most of the time). She was wearing a blood-red tank top with spaghetti straps and an empire waist, a limp black skirt that reached almost to her calves, and black Doc Martins with no socks visible.  
  
Of course, since she was wearing a tank top, her "tattoo" was visible. The first time the kids at school had seen it, they told her that it was freaky and that they thought she was going to be one of those disgusting people who was into drugs when she was older - Blaise thought they were all crazy. And she told them so.  
  
Blaise longed to get out of the school. There was only an hour left, but she wanted to get away. Suddenly she got an idea that might work. A few days ago, she had tried dying her hair completely black, and found out that the dye make her sick. She couldn't figure out why, but less than a minute after the dye had been put in, she felt groggy and her stomach began to hurt. Since it had been so recently, perhaps..  
  
Blaise put on a dull expression and started to raise a shaking hand. "M-ma'am?"  
  
The teacher glanced up from her stack of papers.  
  
"I.don't feel w-" Blaise let her eyes roll and toppled off of her chair.  
  
"Oh, my goodness," the teacher exclaimed, and she ran over to Blaise's sprawled figure. Many of the class had stopped working on their tests in order to watch.  
  
The second the teacher touched Blaise's arm, Blaise's eyes fluttered open and she sat up in pretended fogginess. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I guess I'm not as recovered as I thought I was. Can I go to the nurse?"  
  
"I think that would be the smartest thing. Gather up your things incase you go home, while I write you a pass. Do you need someone to escort you incase you-"  
  
"That's okay; I think I can manage." She stuffed a few things into her cedar-green shoulder bag and picked up the test she had finished. She traded the test for a pass. Walking out of the door, she gave an unsteady little sway for effect. The second she reached the lobby, she tossed the note into a rash bin and pulled out a rather worn black beret from her bag and jammed it onto her head, a bit lopsided. She safely walked out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. Then she quickly yet casually walked toward her destination: the cemetery.  
  
Entering through the old metal gate, she could easily see the tree that grew above Ameide's grave on the hill. It was almost eleven feet tall. The tree had grown about a foot each year since Ameide's death and Blaise's birth. Its branches were now covered in green summer leaves; during the fall, they bore leaves the color that Ameide's hair had been.  
  
Blaise ran up to the tree and sat down beside it, taking off her bag and setting it on the ground at her side.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Mum," Blaise said to the air.  
  
She was answered by the twirling of the wind through the leaves above her head, and the crying of a flock of ravens that were flying around and calling out to one another in the tree bordering the cemetery.  
  
She sat in silence for a while, leaning against the smooth yet rough bark of the tree. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady, but she was awake. She liked silence. Life was so loud sometimes. Blaise liked solitude like this.  
  
A few ravens flew overhead, their shadows passing over and darkening the orange-peach of the inside of her eyelids.  
  
Another small brew brushed at her skin, and she felt something pecking at her skirt. She opened her eyes. One of her eyebrows rose. A jet- black raven was standing by her right leg and was poking at the material of Blaise's skirt. She shifted her legs, drawing them up to her chest.  
  
"Don't do that," she snapped at the bird.  
  
Instead of being startled and flying away in fright, the bird stepped closer to her and stared at her.  
  
"What's your problem? Go away!" Blaise scowled.  
  
The raven blinked.  
  
"You're really messed up, you know. Why don't you make that irritating wonking noise the rest of your kind make?"  
  
The raven straightened, caused another breeze to wash over Blaise with its wings, flew up and perched on one of the lower braches on the tree. It tilted its head to look down at Blaise.  
  
"You won't leave me alone, will you? All right, then. I suppose I'll have to think of a name so you can suffer properly." She crossed her arms and glared up at the feather nuisance sitting above her.  
  
"Hwesta."  
  
The raven tilted its head the other way.  
  
"Yes. That's good. Hwesta. After all, that is what you are. You probably don't even exist, Hwesta; I am asleep."  
  
"Blaise!" someone shouted.  
  
Blaise turned toward the voice. It was Cara. Apparently school had gotten out.  
  
Cara ran up the hill, her strawberry-blond, shoulder-length hair flying out behind her. She was wearing a white tank top that had thick straps and the image of a silver-blue dragon wrapped around the garment; and khaki cargo shorts. Her sky blue flip-flops slapped the grass as she ran.  
  
"You're in big trouble; you know that?" Cara told her as she stopped in front of Blaise. "Mum's really pissed off now. She sent me to get you."  
  
Blaise shrugged. "Whatever." She slowly got up and pulled the strap of her bag back over her head to rest on her left shoulder. She glanced up at the raven that was still sitting silently in the tree.  
  
"Bye, Hwesta. I guess I'll have to torture you some other time."  
  
The raven began to preen its feathers.  
  
Cara gave Blaise a strange look. "Don't tell me you're talking to birds now, Blaise."  
  
When they got home, Laurel scolded Blaise for skipping the last part of the school day. Blaise had to do the dinner dishes, and she was grounded until the end of the month - two weeks. Laurel and Elliot were fed up with Blaise's attitude toward school, and were determined to find a way to change her attitude.  
  
After finishing the dishes, Blaise stomped up to her room and slammed the door, locking it. She flicked on the ceiling light and then just stood against the door, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and slid to the ground, heaving an exasperated sigh. She knew she had to watch it, or something bad would happen. For that is what usually happened when she was angry; this mysteriously got knocked over, glass cracked or broke, papers ripped or were blown to the ground and mixed up, and, once when her class was learning about the eco system, all of the soda bottle "fish tanks" that held the guppies, snails, and algae simultaneously exploded, spraying the whole class. Blaise tried avoiding situations like these; she somehow knew she was the cause of them, though she couldn't explain how. She avoided because she didn't like not being in control of herself.  
  
Blaise opened her eyes and contented herself by glaring around her room for a few minutes.  
  
The walls of her room were a cooling shade of sage for the most parts. However, the fall before, she deciding that she wanted them to look a little more interesting, and, since she wasn't much of an artist, she saved up her pocket money and paid an older student she knew from school to paint dark forest green splotches that looked like climbing vines of ivy on the lower third of the walls and soaring black ravens on the tops third of the walls. She had told Jamie (the boy who she paid to paint) to make the ravens a bit sketchy, so it looked like they were father away, and their details weren't easy to see. The middle of the walls was left untouched.  
  
Lining the wall to her right, which was only an arm's length away from where she was sitting, were two tall shelves. The one closest to the door held many books of all kinds, though most of them were fantasy related. There were many books about the medieval times during the Arthurian Era, and Blaise's favorite character in them was Morgaine. She thought everyone else were goodie-goodies, not to mention that she thought they usually acted like complete dunderheads. That was her opinion, anyway. The other shelf was separated by about a foot from the bookshelf, and it held photographs, figurines, and different kinds of rock - jade, amethyst, hematite, and smoky quartz were a few of the types she had collected.  
  
Directly across from Blaise, on the opposite wall, were her dresser and the mirror that hung above it. To the left of the dresser was a wicker laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Next to that was her bed - a mattress with its side pushed up against the wall, with a black pillow at the head and a blanket of a blended deep purple and foggy black that was half on the mattress, and half on the wooden floor. Blaise used to have a normal bed, but she had a nasty habit of rolling off of the bed and falling onto the floor as she slept, so she figured that if she just had a mattress instead of a regular bed, there would be less of a height to fall from.  
  
Above her bed, in the wall, was a window with a small cushioned seat in an alcove. The two-paneled window opened out, with a latch in between to lock them when they were closed. Just outside of the window, hanging from the eave, was a Chinese coin wind chime. Black curtains that could be pulled together during the night hung on each side of the window.  
  
Above the head of her bed were many photographs of enchanting landscapes and old castles that she had cut out of magazines and stuck on her wall. Next to her bed was a small table on which sat an alarm clock, a potted tree, and a few other odds and ends. Then there was her closet, with its sliding door that reminded her of shutters.  
  
Her desk was against the wall she was sitting against, and in between her and the desk was a pile of shoes. Blaise yanked off her boots and added them to the disarray. Then she pulled off her black socks and threw them across the room into the laundry basket. One sock teetered on the edge of the basket before sliding over and dropping to the floor.  
  
Now barefoot, she walked over to the circular rug that lay in the center of the smooth floor, kicking her school bag aside a she did. Of all the things in her room, this rug was what she loved best. Inside the border of Celtic knots was the image of a winged dragon that was curled up and apparently fast asleep. The dragon was "drawn" with black contour lines, while the rest of it was a beautiful ash-gray. Blaise had bought it from an antique shop with some of her Christmas money a few years ago.  
  
Just as Blaise brushed her fingertips along the dragon's scaled neck, there was a knock on her door.  
  
"Blaise! It's eight thirty; your homework had better be done, because it is time for bed," Elliot's voice came through the locked door.  
  
Blaise groaned and stood up. Another part of her punishment was her bedtime. She now had to be in bed by 8:45 pm, whereas before she could stay up as long as she wanted; she just had to get up in the morning with no fuss.  
  
"I already did it!" she replied. She had finished before dinner. Though she didn't care for school, she always managed to do all of her homework and pass her tests with moderately good grades. Her family wondered how she did it.  
  
Blaise got into her pajamas and unlocked the door so she could go to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On the way back to her room, she passed Elliot.  
  
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he said, leaning down and giving her a kiss on her forehead.  
  
"'Night, Dad."  
  
During the last week of school, the silent raven, Hwesta, often followed Blaise around at recess, and quite a few times it landed on the ground by her.  
  
"What? Are you stalking me or something?" she asked it irritably one day.  
  
Hwesta just stared at Blaise as she unpacked her lunch.  
  
Blaise tore off the crust of her sandwich. "Hungry?" she asked. She tossed the crusts to Hwesta, and the raven began to eat them.  
  
"Miss Zabini!" came the shocked voice of her teacher.  
  
Hwesta flew up into the branches of the tree Blaise had been sitting under.  
  
"You shouldn't feed that wild animal! It will start expecting people to give it food, and it will follow them around."  
  
Blaise laughed humorlessly. "He already follows me around, ma'am. But he only follows _me_, and this is the first time I've given him food. As you can see," she gestured to the dark bird in the tree, "he doesn't like other people."  
  
Her teacher frowned.  
  
"Oh, don't worry; it's not just you - he doesn't like my sister either."  
  
By the time summer vacation started and her grounding had ended, she could call to Hwesta as he was soaring above her, and he would fly down to her and land on her outstretched hand. Also, Hwesta seemed to know how to grasp her skin without hurting her with his talons.  
  
Other than her new "pet," Blaise's summer went by normally. At least until one day in July that changed her life forever. The one day when she would learn some of the answers to her questions about herself, and when even more questions would be brought up to be answered.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Btw, Hwesta means "breeze" in Quenya. Review, please! And don't forget to let me know if you want a response! Lol. 


	3. Chapter 2: The Letter

Who Am I?  
  
Written By Eizoku  
  
Chapter 2: The Letter  
  
On the afternoon of Tuesday, July 24, Blaise could be found sitting on her window seat, leaning out of the window. She was wearing a loose, dark gray t-shirt and a pair of winter camouflage, knee-length cargo shorts. Her left bare foot rested on her mattress, while her right was folded underneath her. Her eyes scanned the sky for something that wasn't there.  
  
She sat back with a huff. "Stupid bird," she grumbled. "Just when I need someone to rant to, there isn't anybody around."  
  
Blaise had shut herself in her room a little while ago after having an argument with Elliot. She had wanted to go to the park so she could roller blade - without having to deal with Laurel watching her form the kitchen window to make sure she's alright. Blaise hated it when people were too overprotective. However, Elliot told her she couldn't go to the park until the garage was cleaned out. They were going to have a garage sale that weekend so they could get rid of the old things they didn't need anymore - like tricycles and their little kiddie swings.  
  
"That's not fair!" Blaise had yelled. "I don't want to clean out the stinking garage! It's going to take forever!"  
  
"It will not take forever if you help your sister and I. If we work together, we'll be able to finish it before you mother gets home from work this afternoon.  
  
"By then it'll be too late to go!" she had run back inside and up to her room.  
  
Blaise groaned. She wasn't going about to let her emotions take control of her. She was worried that someday she would end up hurting someone. Oh - she wasn't concerned about people getting a little bonk on the head or tripping and falling on their faces; but she knew she would feel awful if someone was seriously injured.  
  
That was why she had taken up making up songlike poems. They couldn't really be called songs, yet she had a small tune for each of them, so they weren't just poems. Her songs were usually exaggerated versions of how she was feeling, because, since she was only ten - eleven in October - her imagination usually took over when she was writing down the words.  
  
Blaise leaned back against the alcove wall and stared at the sky - which was dark and cloudy, promising a cooling summer shower - and sighed. "I wish I could just scream, but who knows what would happen if I did "that"?" A second later, she began to quietly sing:  
  
"Let out the sound  
  
Tearing through your throat  
  
Ripping the thick air  
  
Apart  
  
Shatter the sky  
  
Make the world  
  
Crumble around you  
  
The sound is tangled  
  
With pain and suffering  
  
But that doesn't mean  
  
You can forget everything  
  
You can't give up  
  
On everyone  
  
It'll get better.someday  
  
They'll learn.  
  
Won't they?  
  
Please stop screaming."  
  
Blaise heard the wind chime and looked up as a gust of wind blew in her face. It was moist, and a moment later drops of rain began to fall. Almost immediately, she saw Hwesta's form flying toward the house. Ignoring the blowing rain, she opened the window wider, and Hwesta flew into her room, perching on one of the branches of her small potted tree. Blaise quickly shut the window.  
  
As soon as she turned back to her room, Hwesta flew to her hand, and she stroked his barely-wet feathers.  
  
"You idiot bird," she chided. "What were you doing flying around in the rain? You should have been here five minutes ago, and then you wouldn't have gotten wet."  
  
There was a knock on Blaise's door, and she frowned.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked angrily.  
  
"Cara," her sister's voice came through the door.  
  
"Oh," she said in relief. "Hold on," she called. She got up with Hwesta still on her hand and walked over to the door. She unlocked it and opened it to let Cara in.  
  
Cara's eyebrows rose as she noticed Hwesta perched on Blaise's hand, but she didn't comment. Instead, she handed Blaise a magazine and a letter. "Here's your mail."  
  
"Thanks." Hwesta flew back to the tree so Blaise could have full use of her hands. Blaise glanced at the magazine and then tossed it on her bed to read later. Then she looked at the envelope in her hand. It was made of a yellowish parchment, with the address written in emerald-green ink, and no stamp.  
  
Blaise realized that Cara was still standing in front of her.  
  
"What?" she asked irritably.  
  
"I want to see what's inside. It has a cool wax seal on the back."  
  
Blaise rolled her eyes. "Alright. Close the door."  
  
Cara did so, and then they both went over to sit on Blaise's bed as Blaise glanced at the "cool wax seal."  
  
It was made from purple wax, and it bore a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter 'H'.  
  
Crossing her legs under her as she began to open the envelope, Blaise grinned at Cara. "How much d'you wanna bet it's some little snot-nosed kid's birthday invitation?"  
  
"But then how come _I_ didn't get one?"  
  
Blaise took the letter out of the envelope. It was made of the same material as the envelope was. "Maybe they didn't mail them on the same day?" She unfolded the paper and read the letter silently. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open a little.  
  
"What?! What is it?" Cara asked in excitement, jolting the mattress.  
  
Blaise looked at Cara. "It's not a birthday invitation."  
  
"Well...? What is it then?"  
  
Blaise looked back down at the piece of paper. She swallowed and wet her lips before she began to read:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
HEADMASTER: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)  
  
Dear Miss Zabini,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
  
Minerva McGonagall,  
  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Blaise looked up at Cara, who was staring at her as if she had suddenly grown two extra heads. "Is this some kind of joke?" she asked softly.  
  
Cara frowned indignantly. "If it is, then I didn't know anything about it." She hesitated. "What about that necklace of yours? You know - the one that has moving pictures in it? Is - is that magic?"  
  
"If it is, then it would explain a lot of things that seem to happen around me."  
  
Cara's eyes suddenly lit up as she seemed to think of something. "Hey! You know that tattoo on your right shoulder?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, do you think that that's the symbol of a witch? I mean - Mum's told us about how your biological mother had the same tattoo, and that you were born with it."  
  
"Maybe." Blaise unfolded the second piece of parchment that was in the envelope. "We have to tell Mum and Dad about all this - how else will I be able to go to this.school? Oh, look -" she added as she got a glance at the parchment, "here's the list of stuff I'll need:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
  
UNIFORM  
  
First-year students will require:  
  
Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
  
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
  
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
  
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
  
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry nametags  
  
COURSE BOOKS  
  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
'The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)' by Miranda Goshawk  
  
'A History of Magic' by Bathilda Bagshot  
  
'Magical Theory' by Adalbert Waffling  
  
'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration' by Emeric Switch  
  
'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' by Phyllida Spore  
  
'Magical Drafts and Potions' by Arsenius Jigger  
  
'Fantastic Beasts and Where to find Them' by Newt Scamander  
  
'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' by Quentin Trimble  
  
OTHER EQUIPMENT  
  
1 wand  
  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
  
1 telescope  
  
1 set brass scales  
  
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.  
  
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS  
  
"Oh, that's just great. Where the hell am I supposed to get any of this stuff?"  
  
"_Blaise_!" Cara said sharply, sounding a lot like Laurel.  
  
"Sorry; I forgot Miss Goodie-goodie doesn't swear," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes at her foster sister.  
  
Cara kicked Blaise's shin. "How about you ask that person.Minerva McGonagall? After all, didn't it say something about 'owling' them - whatever _that_ means?"  
  
"Yeah.." Blaise glanced back at the first piece of paper. "'We await your owl'.. Do you think that's like what people used to use carrier pigeons for?"  
  
Cara shrugged. "Probably."  
  
Reading over the list again, Blaise grumbled, "I can't believe I have to wear a uniform. At least it's black."  
  
Cara snorted. "Yeah; your favorite color."  
  
"I am _not_ wearing a pointed hat - I'll be _just_ fine with my beret, thank you very much."  
  
"I don't think you can wear that there."  
  
"Then I'll wear a hooded cloak."  
  
Cara laughed. "You know, sometimes I wonder where you got that attitude."  
  
Blaise shrugged. "Dunno, don't care."  
  
Just then, they heard Laurel pull into the driveway and then turn off the car's engine.  
  
Both girls simultaneously got up. Blaise made sure she had all of the papers in hand before offering an arm to Hwesta.  
  
"Come on, boy; maybe you'll get something to eat."  
  
Hwesta flew to her shoulder, ignoring the arms.  
  
They headed downstairs just as Laurel walked into the kitchen with rain dripping off of her jacket. Elliot followed soon after, carrying two grocery bags. Evidently, Laurel had stopped at the grocery on the way home from work.  
  
"Hello, girls," she greeted cheerfully.  
  
"Hey, Mum."  
  
"Hi, Mum."  
  
"What is the raven doing in the house, Blaise?" she asked as she noticed Hwesta on Blaise's shoulder.  
  
"Mum, it's raining outside; I let him in so he wouldn't get wet."  
  
Elliot sighed. "He's a wild animal, Blaise. He dealt with weather before you met him."  
  
"Blaise?" Cara asked suddenly.  
  
"Huh? What?"  
  
"Aren't you going to tell them about.you know.?"  
  
"Oh. Yeah." She dropped the envelope, letter, and list on the counter. "Mum, Dad, this came in the mail today for me."  
  
Laurel stopped unpacking and putting away groceries, and picked up the papers. "What's all this?" she asked. "'Witchcraft and Wizardry'?"  
  
"I don't know. Cara's the one who brought my mail to me this afternoon."  
  
"Does this mean that Ameide was.a witch?" Elliot ventured. "It.would explain a lot of things."  
  
Laurel nodded her head in solemn agreement. "But why didn't she ever say anything? I mean, we were her best friends, right?" There was a trace of hurt in her eyes.  
  
"Perhaps there is some kind of.law that forbids her from telling non- magic folk about it."  
  
"I suppose." She sighed and then smiled at Blaise. "Well, honey, you'll get to meet the people from your mother's world, it seems."  
  
"So I can go?" Blaise exclaimed happily, forgetting to be her usual uncaring self. She had never felt like she really belonged in this place, and she wanted to be with people like her.  
  
"Go? Of course you can go! Do you think I would keep you from the world your parents were from?"  
  
Blaise shrugged. "So. What are we supposed to do about 'owling' the McGonagall lady? I obviously don't have an owl - just this-" she broke off as Hwesta hopped off of her shoulder and down to the counter. He pecked at the parchment and then looked up at her.  
  
"Uh," Cara began, "is he trying to say that he'll take the letter?"  
  
Hwesta bowed his head, and there was a shocked silence.  
  
"Ugh. If you get any smarted, I'll have to strangle you, bird," Blaise said while rolling her eyes. "Right, then. Mum, I'm going to send him off with a letter of reply after dinner this evening if the rain has completely stopped." (The pouring rain had turning to a light drizzle by now.)  
  
"Oh - speaking of which, we're having chicken enchiladas for dinner."  
  
"Alright!" Two years ago, the Zabinis had gone on vacation to America for a couple of weeks during the summer, and while they were there, the two girls had discovered the wonderful taste of enchiladas. They made Laurel get the recipe so they could still eat them at home in England.  
  
"Yes, well; you two had better stay out of my sight while I make them; you know how difficult it is, and how long it takes," Laurel added sternly.  
  
"Yes, Mum!" They _did_ know, as they had tried helping one time, and they had both ended up being kicked out of the kitchen for getting in the way when Laurel was frying the tortillas.  
  
By the time dinner was finished, it had completely stopped raining. Blaise borrowed a piece of stationary from Laurel and took a pen from the mug on their counter that was full of pens, pencils, and other little odds and ends. Sitting down at the counter, she tapped the pen on the surface as she thought.  
  
"Hmm. What am I supposed to say?" she muttered aloud.  
  
Laurel leaned over the counter. "Well, you should start off with the fact that you are, in fact going to attend the school," she offered lightly.  
  
Blaise frowned at her. "_I_ was going to say that." Sighing, she started to write.  
  
"Dear Ms. McGonagall," she began,  
  
"I received your letter accepting me into Hogwarts, and I have been given permission from my parents to attend. However, there are a few concerns we have. First of all, how am I to buy the items on the list provided? I knew nothing of magic until I read this letter, so I am rather lost in what to do. Also, my parents were wondering where the school is in the country. (As in, is it within driving distance?) If you could reply as soon as possible, it would be greatly appreciated.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Blaise Zabini"  
  
She held out the letter for Laurel to read. "How does that look?" she asked.  
  
"Pretty good. I think that covers it. Now how are we going to have your bird take it?"  
  
"Well, if we have some string, we can wrap it around the envelope like it's a gift, and then tie the end of the string to one of Hwesta's ankles," Blaise suggested.  
  
"Sounds good. I'll go get some string, and you be putting it in an envelope."  
  
Once the envelope was secured to Hwesta's ankle, Blaise took him back up to her room and opened the window. "Bring this to that woman, Hwesta, and don't take any sides trips, okay?" She released him into the sky as if he was a hawk and she was a hawk trainer. She watched him head north, and  
soon the raven could no longer be seen.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: I apologize for the long wait, really I do. I have been caught up in my other story, "Child of Memories," as I really want to finish it. I have discovered how difficult it is to have more than one story going at a time. *grimaces*  
  
Lol, kazza, the answer to your question (which you probably don't even remember, but you can check back at your review) is.the first suggestion. Hehe! I agree with you most definitely.  
  
Review please! And leave your name, address, phone number, date of birth.lol. Nah, just your email, if you don't mind. *laughs* I love niiiice, looong reviews too! *hint hint* 


	4. Chapter 3: Entering the Magical World

Who Am I?  
Written by Eizoku  
  
Chapter 3: Entering the Magical World  
  
Professor Minerva McGonagall was sitting at her desk, sorting through all of the different letters that were waiting to be replied to and the letters that had to be sent out in the first place. Her usually neat desk was completely covered. And all of these had to be dealt with before school started in a month.  
  
She sighed and picked up another piece of parchment.  
  
Just then, there was a breeze of air and the soft sound of wings. Minerva looked up in surprise as a raven flew in the open window and landed on her desk. It held out a leg on which an envelope was secured. Wondering whom on earth the bird belonged to, Minerva reached over and relieved the unusually silent raven of its burden.  
  
"Would you like a cracker?" she asked it politely, and lifted the lid of an elegant little tin to reveal tiny crackers - apparently there only for post birds.  
  
Hwesta tilted his head slightly closer to the tin, and Minerva held out a few for him to take. Once the raven was busy eating, she turned to the letter. She supposed she'd better read it now, because Hwesta seemed to be waiting for a reply.  
  
Minerva unfolded the parchment. As she read the letter, her brows creased. "How does she not know of magic?" she murmured. "When I received her name, it said she was a half-blood. So why doesn't she know of our world?"  
  
Minerva stood up, causing Hwesta to look at her and tilt his head the other way.  
  
"I need to speak with the Headmaster about this before I can send you off with a reply," she explained to the bird. "If you don't mind waiting-"  
  
Hwesta flapped his wings and leapt off of the desk, all but scattering the papers. He hovered in the air for a moment and then headed for the door. Taking the hint, Minerva followed the raven and then let him follow her out into the corridor after she opened the door.  
  
They stopped at a stone gargoyle a few corridors away.  
  
"Licorice wand."  
  
The stone gargoyle jumped to life and stepped aside, revealing a passageway with a moving spiral staircase. Minerva stepped onto the first step, and Hwesta flew ahead to the top of the stairs to perch politely on a banister. Minerva knocked on a door with the brass doorknocker. The two entered when it silently swung open. Hwesta flew over to where a large crimson and gold bird stood on a perch, and he flew around the bird as it trilled softly at him.  
  
"Good morning, Fawkes," Minerva nodded at the bird as she continued on to the next door and entered it. Hwesta left Fawkes alone and followed.  
  
"Ah, Minerva. To what do I owe this visit?" an elderly man by the name of Professor Albus Dumbledore walked over to greet the professor with a smile. He was wearing half-moon glasses and had a long white beard and hair.  
  
"Albus," Minerva began, "I received this letter from one of the new students. I don't quite understand some of it." She handed the letter to Albus, and he read it quickly.  
  
"Hmm. So she doesn't know of magic? She must live with a Muggle foster family then. I have no record of her parents, but her magic signature says that she is a half-blooded witch. It may be that her mother or father - whichever one was a pureblood - was involved in the previous war and the two were killed. I shall have to speak with Miss Zabini when she comes here, and see how much she knows."  
  
"What should we say in the reply? I have to do this now, because her messenger seems to be waiting for a return letter."  
  
Albus looked at Hwesta with interest. "Strange.. You say she doesn't know of magic? Then where would she have gotten this lovely raven.?" He held out his arm, and Hwesta flew down to perch on it. "I don't recall ever having my mail delivered by a raven before," he said as he stroked the glossy black feathers.  
  
"Albus.?"  
  
"What? Oh, yes, pardon me. I suppose we should send someone to explain to the Zabinis about our world. Normally I'd send Hagrid, but as you know, he is busy trying to collect our dear Harry Potter." Albus smiled warmly at the name. "Let's see.. Do you know if there are any available teachers that could help Miss Zabini out?"  
  
Minerva frowned, thinking. "Amelye Sinistra came back the other day, and I don't think she'd mind getting out for a day and meeting a student ahead of time. Severus Snape is coming in a week, I believe, but I'm almost positive he wouldn't want to.."  
  
Albus chuckled. "Indeed. I won't bother him with it then. And Amelye is a fine choice, so you can let her know. It would probably be best to give the Zabinis directions to the Leaky Cauldron and have Amelye meet them there. I'll contact Amelye and have her meet you back in your office."  
  
Minerva nodded. "Alright. See you later, Albus."  
  
Hwesta launched himself into the air once more, and flew around the room, restless. Then he followed Minerva back to her office. Waiting in a chair was Amelye Sinistra, tapping her fingers on the edge of the armrest. Minerva quickly explained the situation to her, and they decided when the best date would be for her to meet the family.  
  
Minerva took a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, and dipped the quill into a bottle of emerald green ink before starting to write.  
  
Miss Zabini,  
  
We are pleased to know you shall be attending Hogwarts. Now, to take care of your concerns, one of the teachers shall be sent to introduce you to the magical world. Professor Amelye Sinistra shall meet you at The Leaky Cauldron, an inn in downtown London, on the 29th of July at eleven o'clock am. It is in between "Hawkins's Bookshop and Café" and "Rockin' Records." Miss Zabini, when you come to this inn, you shall have to lead your parents inside, as they won't be able to see the entrance, because they have no magic blood in them.  
  
When you enter the Leaky Cauldron, go to the back counter and tell the man named Tom who you are. He shall show you over to Professor Sinistra. Then she shall take care of all your needs to buy supplies for school.  
  
I am afraid that the location of Hogwarts is not available for you to know. You see, the castle has been warded to be Unplottable (it cannot be plotted onto a map). However, I can tell you that it is on the Island. Students take the Hogwarts Express from Kings Cross to travel to Hogwarts. Professor Sinistra shall explain this all in more detail to you and your parents, answering any question you still might have. She will also give you your train ticket.  
  
If there is a problem with the meeting date and time, please let Professor Sinistra know as soon as possible - if you address the letter to her, your raven will be able to find her with no trouble.  
  
Have a good end of the holidays, and I shall see you on September first.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Professor McGonagall  
  
"Here, read through this and make sure there's nothing more, will you, Amelye?" Minerva handed the letter to Amelye to check over.  
  
"No, that's perfect," Amelye replied, handing it back. "I think that covers everything. If we think of anything later, I'll just have to remember to tell the Zabinis on the twenty-ninth."  
  
Minerva secured the letter onto Hwesta's leg as he stood waiting patiently, and then the raven soared out of the window, back to his mistress.  
  
"Well, I'm glad _that's_ taken care of," Minerva sighed. Then she turned back to all of the other letters organized on her desk.  
  
Hwesta returned to Blaise on the twenty-sixth. He pecked at the kitchen screen during breakfast to get her attention as she ate her bowl of cereal. She jumped up and opened the sliding door that led to the porch and beckoned him inside through the door instead. Letting him have a gulp of her food, she tore open the letter and read it aloud to everyone.  
  
"I've never heard of those two stores," said Elliot, "and why doesn't she say what street they're on? Do they expect us to just 'pop' up at the place? And an inn! Why on earth are we meeting this teacher at an _inn_ of all places?!"  
  
"Now, now, El," Laurel said calmly. "We can just get a map of London and find the two stores. How are we to go inside the inn if we can't see it though?" she wondered.  
  
Blaise spoke up. "I have a feeling that once you're inside, you can see, Mum."  
  
"I'll go get the map. Be right back," Laurel announced just before she left the room.  
  
"We'll all have to get up early on the twenty-ninth if we want to make it to London on time," Elliot was saying as Laurel came back with a road map of London. "It's a two hour drive."  
  
Laurel flipped through the map, and after several minutes, they found where they had to go.  
  
"Alright. And there's even a space in between the two stores. Weird."  
  
On Sunday, they all got up early. Blaise and Cara stumbled sleepily down the stairs to eat the pancakes Elliot had made. The weather was cooler than the day before, and it was very foggy outside.  
  
"We're leaving at 8:40, because we have to stop by the ATM on our way out of town so I have enough money to pay for all this stuff of yours," Elliot explained as he placed two pancakes on each of their plates. "Here's the maple syrup, Blaise. And you two should make sure you've got a windbreaker or something; we're supposed to get thunderstorms sometime today."  
  
After breakfast, Blaise grabbed her misty gray windbreaker but didn't put it on over her black tank top that said: "I'm a *itch. Got a problem with it?" in dripping red letters. Laurel and Elliot had protested against her choice of clothing, but Blaise couldn't be swayed.  
  
"But honey, don't you want to make a good first impression?" Elliot had sighed.  
  
Blaise had just scowled at him.  
  
She tied up her gray trainers as Cara pulled on her pale green windbreaker. "You're crazy," Cara informed Blaise. "You're gonna get cold on the drive up, not to mention soaked."  
  
"And why do you care?"  
  
Cara made an impatient tutting sound. "Is it so unbelievable that I don't want you to get sick.again? You get sick so many times.."  
  
Blaise gave Cara a slight smile that might have been a smirk. "Thanks. It's nice to know I'm being studied so carefully."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Blaise tucked some of her own money into a pocket in her red cargo capris in case she wanted to get anything extra for herself. Then she climbed into the back of the dark blue sudan with Cara. After getting money out of the ATM at the bank, Laurel got onto the highway.  
  
Around 10:50, they pulled into a public garage and then began the walk up the street toward the Leaky Cauldron. Laurel finally convinced Blaise to put on the windbreaker when shorts bursts of rain came down on them as they walked.  
  
"Well, here's Hawkins's Bookshop and Café," Elliot observed, and glanced immediately to the record shop on the other side of the alley.  
  
"Blaise, I don't see anything but a dirty alley," Cara complained.  
  
Blaise was too busy staring at the dirty-looking pub in front of her. Above the entrance hung a sign that said, "The Leaky Cauldron." Still staring at the sign, she stepped up to the door and, opening it, stepped inside.  
  
The rest of the Zabinis gasped as Blaise faded into the air.  
  
"Blaise?!"  
  
Blaise looked back when she noticed the others hadn't followed her. She raised her eyebrows as she saw them through the dusty window, looking panicked. She sighed and opened the door again.  
  
"What's wrong with you guys? Why are you just standing out here?" she asked them irritably.  
  
"Blaise!" Laurel cried, hugging her. "You're alright!"  
  
Blaise's eyes widened, and she pulled away in embarrassment. "_Mum_," she protested. "Don't do that in front of everyone!"  
  
Laurel let go. "Sorry, dear, but you just.disappeared!"  
  
Blaise frowned. "I did? But all I did was walk through this door."  
  
"What door?"  
  
"Wha-? Oh! I get it now." Blaise grabbed Cara's hand and pulled her through the doorway and into the pub. Cara gave a sharp gasp and squeezed Blaise's arm painfully as Blaise led their parents through.  
  
"Ow! Let go, will you?"  
  
Laurel and Elliot looked around the pub in shock.  
  
"_This_ is where you're meeting a teacher?! This is a bar!"  
  
"You know, I'm starting to really regret giving my permission for Blaise to get involved in this world."  
  
"Aw, guys! Come on!" Blaise walked to the back of the pub, and stopped at the counter. She stood on her tiptoes so she could see over the edge, because she was so small for her age, and it was level with her forehead. "Excuse me?" she asked an old bald man. "Are you Tom?"  
  
The man looked down at her and smiled toothlessly. "Aye, I am. And who would you be, lass?"  
  
"Blaise Zabini. I was told you would show us to someone."  
  
"Oh, so you're the one! All right then. Just a moment. I'll get Sin for ya."  
  
Cara whispered to Blaise, "Sin? Does he mean Professor Sinistra?"  
  
"I'm guessing so," she hissed back.  
  
Tom came back with a woman of average height and slender build who seemed to be in her late thirties, early forties. She had very dark brown hair that fell to just above her shoulders, which seemed a little untidy with all of the flyaway strands of hair. Thin oval glasses rested on the bridge of her slightly pointed nose.  
  
The strangest thing about her, however, was the choice of clothing. An ascot necktie was tucked into the loose collar of a puffy-ended-sleeved, button-down white shirt that hung over the hips of her 18th century cream- colored British knee breeches. White stockings covered the remaining part of her legs, and she was wearing old brown leather slip-on shoes. Over the shirt she wore a long, dark blue, unlaced and unbuttoned vest. Her nails were painted black.  
  
"I'm Professor Sinistra," she greeted with a friendly smile, holding out her hand to firmly shake Elliot and Laurel's. "I will be Blaise's Astronomy teacher at Hogwarts."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Elliot replied, and then told her what the rest of their names were.  
  
"Come. There is a room in the back where we can speak away from all of this; I can see you aren't too comfortable here." Amelye turned and gestured for them to follow. Once they had settled down at the small table, Amelye leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands over her abdomen with her elbows resting lightly on the armrests of her chair.  
  
"So. Where would you like to start?" she asked with an arched brow.  
  
Elliot and Laurel glanced at each other.  
  
"Well," Laurel began, "First of all, we would like to know just what kind of 'school' we will be handing Blaise over to. I take it this is some kind of private boarding school, and that we won't get to see her until holidays?"  
  
"Very good question," Amelye nodded. "You are correct in assuming how Hogwarts works. Blaise will be allowed to visit you during the Christmas holidays and during the Easter holidays if it pleases you. You may also keep in touch through owl post. So you won't be completely cut off from your daughter."  
  
"That's fine, I suppose," said Elliot. "Also, where are we supposed to get all of her supplies?"  
  
A smile spread across Amelye's face. "That is what I shall show you today. You don't have anything else to ask right now, do you?"  
  
"Yes, actually," Elliot spoke up. "Just what is the condition of this school? I don't mean to sound impudent, but so far what we have seen of the.well, this world.has not been too appealing. I was wondering what the state of this school is like."  
  
"Mm. I'm glad you asked. Well, I can assure you that Hogwarts is the most prestigious wizarding school in Europe, and quite possibly, the world. But, I don't want to get ahead of myself. To answer your question, Hogwarts is quite sanitary, and has a wonderful cooking staff. We - the teachers, that is - always take whatever steps necessary to keep Hogwarts as safe as possible. Also, in the event that anyone does get hurt, the school nurse is a very qualified medi-witch who knows what she's doing."  
  
"That sounds pretty good, Dad," said Blaise, who was in the act of rolling up her windbreaker sleeves to escape the heat.  
  
"Was there anything else?"  
  
"Not that I can think of at the moment."  
  
"Very good. Shall we be on our way then?" Amelye stood up.  
  
"Where exactly are we going?" Laurel inquired.  
  
"To Diagon Alley. It is just outside the back of the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"Diagonally?" Blaise raised her eyebrow. "What's that?"  
  
Amelye was striding back into the public area of the pub. "Not diagonally, Miss Zabini. Diagon Alley." She led them to the back of the room and through a door into a small walled courtyard.  
  
Cara glanced around with wide eyes and seized Elliot's hand for comfort.  
  
Amelye and Blaise alone seemed calm, and Blaise watched with interest as Amelye took a wand made of yew -Blaise was startled at the realization that she somehow knew exactly what kind of wood it was - from a special pocket inside her vest and tapped it three times on a brick above a trash can. Then before their very eyes, the wall melted away to form an arch. On the other side of the arch was a long and twisting cobbled street bordered by many strange stores and shops. It would have looked quite amazing, had it not been drizzling with occasional downpours.  
  
Amelye tapped her shirtsleeve and muttered, "Impervius." Then she stepped out into the rain. "Come on, our first stop is the bank, so you can exchange your money. Muggle money won't get you anything in this world."  
  
"Muggle.?" Elliot repeated.  
  
"Oh, yes. 'Muggle' is our word for your kind - non-magic folk. Don't be offended by it; it's just like how you call us witches and wizards."  
  
"Ah." He nodded and pulled up his hood.  
  
"Blaise! Put your hood up!" Laurel scolded. "You'll get a cold!"  
  
Blaise scowled. "It feels nice. I won't put it up. And _besides_ - Professor Sinistra's not even wearing a coat."  
  
Amelye fought the urge to smile, and leaned over to Blaise, tapping her on the head with her wand. "Impervius," she repeated.  
  
Blaise couldn't feel the rain hit her anymore. She could see it bounce off of her skin as she held out her arm, but she felt nothing. "What did you do?" she asked, turning to look up at Amelye with slightly amazed eyes.  
  
The professor turned once more to walk. "That spell repels water. You won't get wet now."  
  
The Zabinis followed her up the street.  
  
"But why didn't you do that to my parents and sister too?"  
  
"Some spells do not work on Muggles. This spell, for instance, causes the magic in you and around you to push away the water. Since your family has no magic in their blood, the water wouldn't be pushed away."  
  
They were approaching a large white building with bronze doors. The sign said the name of the building was called Gringotts. Entering the doors, Blaise saw strange little creatures that looked like goblins walking around in uniforms. The five of them stepped up to a counter.  
  
"Excuse me," Amelye began, getting the attention of a goblin. "These people would like to exchange their money.and perhaps start an account for their daughter?" she glanced at Laurel and Elliot for confirmation, and they nodded. She turned back to the goblin.  
  
Once they had exchanged their money for strange gold, silver and bronze coins that were called Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, the goblin took out a fresh quill and readied some ink. "What will the name of the account's owner be?" he asked. "And full name, please," he added.  
  
Blaise took over. "Blaise Velyn Zabini," she stated.  
  
Halfway through the name, the goblin paused. "Blaise Velyn? Now why do I seem to remember seeing that name before? Could you hold one second?" he requested a second before he disappeared through a door behind the counter. A moment later, he returned with a scroll of parchment.  
  
"Miss," he began, "do you recognize the name Diere?"  
  
Blaise blinked.  
  
"That was her mother's surname," Laurel answered. "Her mother died in childbirth, and we adopted Blaise as our second daughter."  
  
The goblin looked closely at Blaise. "What was your mother's full name, child?"  
  
"Ameide Diere."  
  
He nodded. "Very well then. There is an account that was under Ms. Diere's name that had been arranged to be passed on to a 'Blaise Velyn Diere.' Assuming you are the same girl, this account now belongs to you."  
  
"To me?" she asked in surprise. "So I already have money in this bank?"  
  
"It would seem so," said Amelye in a slightly amused voice. She made a mental note to inform Albus of this new information about the strange girl.  
  
"Would you like to see your vault?" the goblin continued.  
  
Blaise glanced at her parents. "Can we?"  
  
Several minutes later, after an unexpectedly wild ride on a rail cart, they stood before a dusty door that looked as if it hadn't been used in a decade - which was most likely the case. The goblin took a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. There were many loud clunks, and the door swung open. The group was suddenly enveloped in green smoke for a moment until it cleared.  
  
"What - was that?" Elliot asked, coughing slightly.  
  
"Oh, that keeps everything inside in top condition while the vault isn't in use," their guide answered promptly, and stepped aside so that Blaise could step into the stone room. It was around the size of her bedroom, and was lit magically by several torches attached to the walls.  
  
There wasn't a large amount of money inside, but Ameide hadn't been poor, they could see. The was a fair amount of Galleons - more than there were Sickles, and there were several medium-sized piles of Knuts.  
  
"Well. That was unexpected," Elliot stated.  
  
"We don't need anything today," Laurel began, "and we should be getting back up to finish shopping, Blaise."  
  
"Alright." A little later, they were back in the rain.  
  
"I trust that you are in no more need of my assistance?" Amelye inquired. "I should be getting back to the school soon."  
  
"Yes, I think we can manage from here," Laurel agreed. "Thank you for your help, Professor."  
  
Amelye waved her hand. "It was nothing. Now, Blaise," she turned, and taking out a piece of paper, handed it to her, "here is your train ticket. All you have to do is lean against the barrier, and you'll fall right through. The Muggles can't see it or get through, so you'll have to say your goodbyes on their side. Make sure you are on time, because the train leaves at _precisely_ eleven. It won't wait for you."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Amelye shook hands with Laurel and Elliot a second time, and then, without warning, Disapperated.  
  
"Hey! I didn't know you could just disappear like that!" Blaise exclaimed. "That is so cool. I'm gonna learn how to do that as soon as I can."  
  
"Oh, yes. Just what we need is for you to start popping in and out all over the place," Laurel replied sarcastically, but with a little smile. "Now where would you like to start?"  
  
Blaise took out the list from her pocket and replaced the space with the train ticket. "Why don't we start at the beginning of the list? I need my robes and stuff."  
  
They found a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions where Blaise was fitted with her new robes in the back of the store. After much protest, she finally gave in and picked a pointed hat (mumbling to herself, "Just because I have it, doesn't mean I'll wear it at school though," as she handed it to her mum to pay). After buying her uniform, they went next- door to Flourish and Blotts and bought all of her course books. Elliot allowed her to buy three extra books of her choice for herself - 'Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)'; 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts'; and 'Happenings of Halloween: Important Light and Dark Events of the Past Century (Is there a curse on the date of All Hollow's Eve?)'.  
  
They ate lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and then bought Potions supplies (when they went to buy the tools, they were informed that they also needed to get ingredients for Blaise. The Apothecary owner showed them the list of this school year's Potion needs that was tacked to the counter, and they stocked up.  
  
As they were paying, Elliot asked the man (who had been very helpful so far) where they might be able to buy a wand.  
  
"A wand? Aye, that'd be Ollivanders! If ye step out of that door," he pointed to the front entrance, "and turn left, up the street yeh'll come across it. If ye have any trouble, don't hesitate teh ask someone. Just watch out for any grim-looking characters; it's not too smart to cross paths with one of 'em. Guhd'ay," he bowed his head politely, and they left the store.  
  
"These people are so strange," Cara commented as they walked through the rain.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Blaise agreed, watching some people in dark cloaks walking along the street. "But I bet they think we're just as strange."  
  
They found the wand shop a few minutes later, and they gratefully stepped inside the door, out of the cold and dreary weather.  
  
"Good afternoon," a soft voice spoke up. Blaise looked back toward the many shelves in the store, and spotted an old man with bright, pale eyes and wispy white hair.  
  
"Afternoon," Blaise offered with a slight nod. It seemed to her that these people did many things in the old-fashioned way, so if she was to feel comfortable in this world, she'd better get used to acting the same.  
  
"Blaise Zabini, I presume?" he continued with the same mysterious air. "You remind me of someone, but the name escapes me at the moment. It may be your posture, or your eyes; you never can tell." He took out a long tape measure from his pocket as she nodded. "Which is your wand arm?"  
  
"Erm, right arm," she guessed and instinctively held it out.  
  
Mr. Ollivander began to measure her arm and different parts of her body. He told her all about wands; how they were made, what was so special about each wand, and other various tidbits of information. Halfway through, he walked away amongst the shelves, and Blaise realized that the tape measure had been enchanted to measure her.  
  
"That will do," Mr. Ollivander waved his hand dismissively, and the tape measure dropped to the floor. "Ah. Now let's see how this one will work." He handed Blaise a smooth, red-tinted wand. "Try this. Mahogany and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Give it a wave, now."  
  
Blaise flicked her wrist, but nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander quickly snatched it from her fingers and placed another wand in her hand.  
  
"Oak and unicorn hair, nine inches. Try it out."  
  
Again, nothing happened.  
  
"Hmm. Well.ah, now why didn't I think of this one sooner? Ebony and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches." he handed the glossy black wand to her.  
  
Feeling there was something different about this wand, Blaise confidently gave it a short wave, and a stream of silver sparks burst from the tip.  
  
"Yes, yes; I don't see why I didn't pick that one before." He took the wand from Blaise and began to wrap it up in brown paper. "That will be seven Galleons and four Sickles, please."  
  
They paid for the wand, and thanking Mr. Ollivander, left the shop.  
  
The long drive home was quiet, and it gave Blaise time to think of the coming school year. She had pulled out her train ticket, and to her astonishment, it told her that she had to go to Platform 9 ¾ to catch the train. Then again, it also made "falling through the barrier" a bit easier to understand. Halfway home, she fell asleep as she leaned against the window, shivering. The spell had worn off a long time ago, and now her clothes were damp.  
  
When Laurel turned off the car, Elliot looked back and noticed the small sleeping girl, and smiled slightly. "Cara, hold onto her shoulder and make sure she doesn't fall out when I open the door, okay?" He got out and then slowly opened Blaise's door. "You can just leave her things in the car; I'll get them later," he assured Cara as he lifted Blaise out of the car and closed the door with his leg.  
  
"How can she be asleep at this time of day?" Cara wondered aloud as she followed her parents and sister inside.  
  
"Just imagine how it would be if you suddenly began learning all about your past in the length of just a few days," said Laurel, shrugging off her jacket and taking Cara's to hang up. "Not to mention that Blaise has never been a particularly healthy girl. Speaking of which, Elliot," she called, and he came back down the stairs, "do you think we should send a letter ahead to that Professor McGonagall woman and let her know about Blaise's tendency to get sick at strange times?"  
  
Elliot rubbed at his chin. "That would be a smart thing to do. I'm not _too_ worried; Professor Sinistra did say that they had an excellent nurse.."  
  
"Yes, but still."  
  
"Alright. I can write the letter if you'd like, and we can send it off with her bird - if he let's us."  
  
Half an hour later, after Elliot and Laurel had unloaded the car, and Laurel and Cara were out in the garden (it had stopped raining, and had cleared up considerably), Elliot sat down in his home office and took out a piece of paper and a black pen. Then he began to write.  
  
Dear Professor McGonagall,  
  
It was a pleasure meeting Blaise's future Astronomy teacher today. She was very helpful in introducing us to this new world - at least, it is to us. However, this is not why I am writing to you now. The reason is that my wife Laurel and I have a few concerns about our daughter when she is spending the whole year far away from home. Laurel and I can't exactly trust Blaise to let anyone know about them when she is at Hogwarts - she would probably try to keep it to herself, and we don't think that would be very safe.  
  
You see, Blaise has this unusual habit of growing ill at strange moments and being affected badly by what many people would take as normal things. For instance, Blaise sometimes gets dizzy and lightheaded when it is particularly dry weather, and during the winter, she occasionally has a hard time moving, as if her whole body is stiff. When her mother was alive, she also was affected by this illness, or whatever it seems to be, but it wasn't as strong with Blaise.  
  
If you could possibly keep an extra eye out for Blaise, we would be extremely grateful. It is very difficult sending her away to a completely alien place, as she is such a fragile child. Don't crowd her (she becomes quite irritated with coddling), but if you could just make sure she doesn't look like she is trying to not faint, or what-not, it would lift a great weight off our shoulders. Of course, Blaise has a very strong aura, but it doesn't keep us from worrying about her.  
  
Thank you for being so kind and helpful.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Elliot Zabini  
  
Elliot folded the letter up and went outside to find Laurel.  
  
"I've finished. Do you know where I can find him?" he asked her.  
  
Laurel straightened up and brushed some hair out of her eyes with the back of her forearm so she didn't get dirt on her face. "Umm, I saw him flying around the bushes over there," she pointed to their front hedges, "a few minutes ago. He may still be in the area. You think he might come if you called for him?"  
  
"Maybe. But I'll look for him right now." He walked out into the front yard, and saw Hwesta picking at some berries on the bushes. Elliot called softly to the raven. "Hwesta; com'ere, boy."  
  
Hwesta looked up at Elliot, but then went back to eating berries.  
  
Elliot gave a little whistle this time. "Hwesta, I've got a letter for you to deliver." He whistled again shortly - not a whistle for a dog, but a birdcall style of whistle (the kind that hawk handlers sometimes make).  
  
At the second whistle, Hwesta flew up into the air and then perched on a branch next to Elliot. Then he tilted his head slightly.  
  
Elliot smiled. "Good boy. Now, I need you to take this to Professor McGonagall. You can wait for a reply if you want, but she doesn't need to reply. I just want to let her know." He paused as he was tying the letter to Hwesta's leg. "And I have no idea why I am talking to a bird as if he can understand me.." Elliot shrugged and gave Hwesta a little pat. "Now off you go, boy."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I think I'm only going to be updating this about once a month. Once I finish my other story, the chapters will come much faster.  
  
Review! 


	5. Chapter 4: The Long Train Ride to Whe...

Chapter 4: The Long Train Ride to.Where?  
  
On the thirtieth of July, Minerva looked up from her breakfast with Albus Dumbledore in the Great Hall to see the same raven flying toward her with a letter attached to his leg.  
  
"Oh my. What is it now?" she murmured as Hwesta came to a landing on the table by her plate. She removed the letter, and Albus cheerfully fed Hwesta some bits of toast and bacon as Minerva read the note. When she was finished, she handed it to Albus to read.  
  
"Hmm. I suppose we should let Poppy know about this," Albus said thoughtfully. "And when she is sorted, if she isn't in Gryffindor, you can inform her Head of House about it."  
  
Hwesta decided that he didn't feel like waiting around anymore, so he ruffled his wings a little before flying up into the air. After a swoop around the Hall, he soared out of the window, heading home to the Zabinis.  
  
August passed quickly for the Zabini family. Blaise wasn't the only one who would be starting a new school; Cara was also going to be starting at the junior high school that fall. However, September first was also the first day of her school year. Cara would be gone by the time Blaise left in the morning. They had to say their goodbyes the night before.  
  
Ten minutes to eleven, the remaining three Zabinis were standing just outside the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10 at King's Cross Train Station. Blaise pushed the trolley carrying her trunk against the barrier so that it was just barely touching the brick.  
  
Blaise turned back to Laurel and Elliot. "Well.see you guys," she said softly.  
  
Laurel stepped forward and embraced Blaise tightly. "Oh, sweetheart, we'll miss you."  
  
Elliot also gave her a short hug. "Have a good time, Blaise. And I don't want to get any 'owls' back telling me you've been running away from school to spend your time in cemeteries."  
  
Blaise's eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh no!" she mumbled.  
  
Elliot glanced at Blaise in concern. "What's wrong, dear?"  
  
"I...I forgot to tell her.. I forgot to tell her I couldn't come.."  
  
Comprehension washed over Elliot and Laurel's features, but wasn't replaced by relief. "Oh, honey.. You know she can't hear you. She won't know if you are gone or not."  
  
Blaise seized Elliot's sleeve. "No! She has to.. Please tell her where I am, Daddy. Please, when you get home, tell her where I am. Promise me!"  
  
Laurel and Elliot exchanged glances, and then Elliot looked back down at his foster daughter.  
  
"I promise," he said reluctantly.  
  
Blaise seemed to relax, and she let go of his sleeve. "Okay then. Bye." Without another word, she turned away, and a second later disappeared through the wall.  
  
Many children and their parents were rushing around with trunks and cages holding owls. Blaise was glad she had sent Hwesta on ahead to Hogwarts. He wouldn't have appreciated being stuck in a cage with noisy animals all around. The noise clamored in Blaise's ears, causing her to wince. She pushed her trolley over the platform and then managed to tug the trunk off of the trolley and onto one of the red cars. She dragged her trunk down the hallway, aiming on finding a compartment to her liking.  
  
She almost ran into a girl with bushy brown hair who was going the opposite way, but Blaise jumped aside just in time.  
  
"Watch where you're going," she snapped irritably.  
  
The girl looked slightly taken aback for a second, but then she made a huffing sound and replied, "I was. You could be a little more polite, you know."  
  
"'You could be a little more polite, you know,'" Blaise mimicked in a mutter. "Geeze. What a snob."  
  
Three doors down, she found an empty compartment. After one glance at the luggage racks above the seats, she shoved the trunk into a corner of the compartment, before sitting herself down on a seat by the window. She watched the people still on the platform, saying goodbye to their families.  
  
A shrill whistle blew further up the train, and several children dashed for their compartments. Another moment later, a second whistle blew, and all of the outside doors loudly snapped shut and locked at once - most likely by magic.  
  
Blaise took out her wand and fingered it, a thoughtful expression on her face. Not yet had she used her wand - Elliot had deemed it too dangerous a thing to experiment with, with no experienced magical people around to help if something went wrong.  
  
She put the ebony wand away when the train began to move, and she prepared for a long, boring train ride.  
  
The train hadn't even left the station when the door slid open, and four students entered. The eldest of them, a boy with dark brown hair who seemed to be thirteen or fourteen years old, saw Blaise first.  
  
"Oh; you don't mind if we sit here, do you?" he asked politely. "We can go somewhere else if you are saving this for your friends."  
  
Blaise glanced over the other three people - there was another boy with blond hair about the same age as the first, a girl about Blaise's age who seemed to be related to him (if her appearance was anything to go by, with their similar fair hair - though the girl's was up in pigtails), and another girl (the same age as the boys), who had light brownish-red hair pulled into a simple ponytail.  
  
Blaise shrugged disinterestedly. "I guess. It's not like I own the train, you know."  
  
The dark-haired boy raised his eyebrows. The two boys and the older girl helped each other pull their trunks into the compartment, but came into some difficulty when the light-haired boy hit his shin on Blaise's trunk.  
  
"I can get this up for you if you'd like," the first boy offered. When she shrugged again, he turned to his friend. "Kyle, can you give me a hand with this?"  
  
As the two boys lifted the trunk and heaved it onto the rack above Blaise's head, the first boy added, "Oh, my name's Cedric, by the way. Cedric Diggory. And this is my best friend, Kyle Abbott, his little sister Hannah - a first year, as I would assume you are also," by now the trunk was safely secured, and he was standing before Blaise as he pointed out the people, "and this is Amy Sanden."  
  
Figuring it was the only thing to do, Blaise held out her hand and shook Cedric's hand (hers was completely covered by his), and replied, "Blaise Zabini." Then she promptly turned back to the window. These were exactly the type of people she didn't get along with well; she wasn't very comfortable around the really friendly people, as she felt awkward around them. That was one of the reasons she hadn't been close with anyone before.  
  
Cedric sat down on the opposite seat by the door, next to Kyle, and Amy and Hannah sat on the same seat as Blaise.  
  
Just then, the door, once again, slid open, and a skinny redheaded boy stuck his head in. "Oh - never mind," he spoke quickly, as he realized there was no more room in the compartment. The door shut with a snap, and Blaise could here the boy's trunk grate along the floor in the corridor.  
  
The compartment was silent for a few minutes, and Blaise stared out the window at the dull landscape the train was traveling through. She didn't even notice when the others began to talk amongst themselves. Cedric and Kyle were talking about something called "Quidditch," while Amy was trying to engage Hannah in conversation; apparently she was succeeding, because Hannah slowly became more confident and spoke happily with her.  
  
Around a quarter past twelve, the door slid open to reveal a smiling dimpled woman with a cart of food and drink.  
  
"Great! I'm starving!" Cedric exclaimed, standing up and fishing through his pockets for coins.  
  
When Blaise realized that you had to pay for the food, she frowned slightly. Her money was locked away in her trunk - which was on the rack above her head. She sighed and looked away, out of the window as her stomach twisted with hunger.  
  
"Aren't you going to get anything?" Hannah asked her, as the pigtailed girl sat back down next to Blaise, with several strange items in hand.  
  
Blaise shrugged. "My money's in my trunk. There's no point in-"  
  
"I can buy you something," Kyle offered kindly. "You can pay me back when you have your-"  
  
"No thanks," Blaise interrupted in irritation. "I can handle it myself." She stood up on the seat and quickly unlocked her trunk, before sifting through a few layers of books and clothing to pull out a small pouch of coins. She jumped down and bought iced pumpkin juice (Amy claimed it was delicious), a Cauldron cake, and a chocolate frog. She didn't have much money left, so she was not about to spend it all carelessly. Blaise hadn't been raised as one who squandered money on useless items, and she knew she wouldn't be able to get any more money for a while.  
  
As Blaise watched the countryside slowly switch from fields to woods and rivers, Kyle got up and stretched a little.  
  
"I'm going to take a walk around, Ced. You wanna come?"  
  
Cedric glanced out the window briefly, before turning back to look at Kyle. "Sure," he replied. "And why don't we take our robes to change in the bathroom? That way you girls can get changed in here." He grinned. "Just make sure you're decent by the time we get back, alright?"  
  
"Diggory!" Amy chucked an empty candy box at Cedric's head. He quickly ducked out of the compartment after Kyle, shutting the door behind him.  
  
While the boys were gone, Amy and Hannah changed into their robes, tugging off their light sweaters before throwing on the black material. Blaise, who disliked changing around others (she always yelled at Cara when she walked in while Blaise was halfway between dressing or undressing herself), sighed. Then she shrugged off her Royal Army field jacket, which had belonged to her grandfather (Laurel's father) when he had fought in WWII, and then retrieved her own robes from her trunk.  
  
It was a strange sensation, wearing witch robes. It almost felt like Halloween. She remembered one year - she had been five - when she dressed up as a witch. The only difference between the two instances was that now Blaise did not have a big, crooked, plastic nose tied around her head, with green face paint all over her face and a fake wart on her temple. She also distinctly remembered whacking Cara in the mouth (accidentally, mind you) with her plastic pumpkin bucket, causing her sister to lose the loose tooth she had been bragging about all that week. Blaise smiled slightly at the memory.  
  
Five minutes later, Cedric and Kyle burst back into the compartment, apparently in good spirits.  
  
"Hey, Amy, guess what!" Kyle exclaimed.  
  
Amy looked up from the book she had taken out to read. "What?"  
  
"Harry Potter's on the train!"  
  
"Some first years we ran into told us that they'd seen him a little farther down the train," Cedric added.  
  
Blaise, meanwhile, was frowning thoughtfully. "Harry Potter," she repeated softly. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"  
  
Hannah's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know who Harry Potter is?" she asked incredulously. "Why, he's the most famous wizard out there, other than Dumbledore, of course."  
  
"Are you Muggleborn?" Cedric asked her curiously.  
  
Blaise shook her head. "No, but my foster parents and sister are Muggles. Oh.I think I remember now," she added. "I read about a Harry Potter in that book I bought - 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,' I think it was called. And there was another he was mentioned in, but the title was really long.it had something to do with Halloween though."  
  
"That's because Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who on October 31st, in 1981," Cedric replied. "He was only a baby, but somehow he managed to defeat the Dark Lord." He shivered. "I don't know _what_ I'd do if I had to face such a terrible and powerful Dark wizard like that."  
  
"You'd probably wet your pants, mate," Kyle laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little.  
  
"I would not!" Cedric exclaimed indignantly, his cheeks pink.  
  
"Besides," Amy cut in, rolling her eyes at her friends' behavior, "Harry Potter was only a baby, so he didn't _know_ to be scared of He-Who- Shall-Not-Be-Named."  
  
"Wait. So he's a first year too?" Blaise couldn't help asking.  
  
Kyle nodded. "Yep. The girl who told me said he has black hair and glasses, and is pretty small and skinny for his age. A right little runt, you might say," he said in a doctor-like tone of voice, before he realized there was someone in the compartment who fit that description quite well. He grimaced. "No offence to you, of course," he apologized hastily to Blaise.  
  
Cedric hit Kyle lightly on the head. "She's not a runt, you twot. Blaise here is _petite_."  
  
Blaise resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and settled instead on staring at the two boys with a scowl.  
  
For some odd reason, both boys looked startled, and then glanced at one another. Kyle whispered something in Cedric's ear, and Cedric nodded, shuddering slightly.  
  
A little while later, Blaise was beginning to regret not buying any more food to eat, for her stomach had started to feel sore. She played with the sliver locket around her neck absentmindedly while staring out at the darkening scenery. The sky was a deep purple hue against the black mountains and thick-forested area.  
  
Blaise jumped when a voice suddenly echoed through the compartment door, seeming to come from nowhere: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."  
  
"Well, I suppose we'd better get ready now," Kyle looked around at the others, checking his pockets to see that he had everything with him that he needed. "You have your wand, Hannah?" he asked his sister, and she nodded. "Good."  
  
Outside of the train, it was quite chilly, and Blaise wrapped her arms around her thin form to keep in her body heat. Now was not the time to become sluggish, as she usually did when it was cold.  
  
It was very crowded on the tiny platform by the tracks, and Blaise had to peer over and around people until she saw a lamp bobbing above several students' heads. Holding the lamp was the largest man Blaise had ever seen - he must have been about twelve feet tall!  
  
"Firs' years!" he was calling. "Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" the man added to a short boy who had walked up to him, followed by the redhead Blaise had seen earlier. She wondered if that was the "famous Harry Potter."  
  
"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!"  
  
Blaise almost slipped and fell on the steep path they were taking. And, though nothing could be seen in the darkness around them, somehow Blaise _knew_ that there were trees on either side of the path, and a great forest beyond them.  
  
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec.jus' round this bend here," the large, hairy man called over his shoulder to the first years following him.  
  
Many people made sounds of awe as they broke free from the trees. The first thing Blaise noticed was the large, black lake, with small boats sitting in the water along its shore. Her stomach clenched nervously. Blaise hated large expanses of water like this. Pure water in vast amounts made her feel strange, dizzy in a way. Blaise looked up a little. Across the lake on a high mountain, was a magnificent castle, its windows alit.  
  
"No more'n four to a boat!" The man shouted, pointing to the boats.  
  
Blaise followed the rest of the first years and climbed into the nearest boat. Two girls and one boy joined her a second later.  
  
"Everyone in!" Blaise could hear the man's loud voice command from several boats away. "Right then - FORWARD!"  
  
Blaise jerked violently and grasped the edge of the boat as it suddenly began to move forward.  
  
Five minutes later, there was a shout of: "Heads down!" as the first of the boats reached the cliff, where there was a curtain of ivy hiding an entrance to the inside of the cliff. Blaise, however, did not duck, but felt compelled to let the ivy slide over her, raising her right hand to touch the vines as her boat entered the cave. Once all of the boats reached a little harbor-like area, they got out of the boats and followed the tall man up the stairs.  
  
Finally, a couple minutes later, everyone stood outside a huge oak door. After three knocks on it, it swung open of its own accord. In the doorway stood a tall, black-haired woman in emerald-green robes: Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the man nodded to her.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."  
  
Blaise and the others followed her through the enormous entrance hall, into a small chamber where they all crowded close together.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Minerva. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take you seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." She went on to tell them the names of the houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin), how it was possible to gain and lose points for their house, and about the prize at the end of the year.  
  
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." With that, she turned and left the chamber.  
  
Blaise shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She was starving, and hoped they would get to eat soon. Just then, Blaise felt very cold, and not a second later, several people screamed. Blaise whirled around to see almost two-dozen ghosts drift through the back wall. As the arguing ghosts neared, Blaise could feel her muscles stiffening. She rubbed at her arms in irritation. She didn't even notice when the ghosts began to talk to them.  
  
However, she broke free from her daze when Minerva came back.  
  
"Move along now," she said sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now, form a line, and follow me," she then spoke to the students.  
  
As they entered the Great Hall, Blaise's eyebrows rose. Never in her life had she seen so many people, and such a large room. The teachers were sitting at the top end of the hall, at a long table. Minerva led them up to the table, and they turned to face the other students. Blaise was standing next to the brown-haired girl she'd almost run into earlier that day on the train.  
  
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," she whispered, and Blaise turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow in skepticism of the girl's sanity. But not a second later, she understood what she was talking about. "I read about it in 'Hogwarts, A History.'" The girl was staring up at the ceiling.  
  
Blaise sighed and turned away to look out over the hall. Apparently, this girl was one of those nerdy, studious students. She hoped she wouldn't be put in the same house as her; Blaise didn't think she'd be able to stand it if she had to be around her all the time.  
  
Severus Snape sat in his seat at the High Table beside Quirrell, frowning as he scrutinized the first years. His fist clenched unconsciously as he noticed one first year in particular: Harry Potter. The boy was not hard to miss, especially for Severus, who had known the boy's father in school.  
  
The two hadn't been on the best of terms, and Severus sincerely wished that this small Potter offspring didn't get put into his house - Slytherin - though that was highly unlikely, considering who the boy's father was. But even so, Severus feared he would end up strangling the scrawny bugger if he was put in Severus's charge.  
  
Movement a few people away from the young Potter boy caught Severus's attention, and he inwardly gave a double take as he noticed the unusual color of Blaise's hair. The girl's hair was in a most peculiar style, as well: she had several different length braids, with her bangs simply hanging down to her chin on either sides of her face. Severus could not see her face though; only her left side and back. Blaise was shivering slightly, causing her longer braids to tremble against her back. She was fingering something around her neck, but Severus could not see what it was.  
  
Severus turned away from her as the Sorting Hat began to sing; this girl unnerved him somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was that made him so uneasy about her. Maybe it was the mulberry hair that was so similar to - no, he was not going to think about that now. It just wasn't the time for such nonsense.  
  
He settled on glaring at certain students he knew to be troublemakers, watching for anything they might do wrong that he could punish them for. That was the one thing Severus loved about being a teacher. The students could not get away with making fun of a teacher, unlike how they could get away with if it was another student they were teasing. He had bad memories of such circumstances.  
  
As the Hat stopped its song, Blaise watched Minerva step forward and begin to read from a long roll of parchment.  
  
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"  
  
Hannah stumbled out of the line and put on the hat, only to have it fall over her eyes, and sat down on the stool. Blaise groaned inwardly when she realized that this would be alphabetically. She was always last for roll call, but this would be even worse.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted out loudly to the rest of the hall after a moment. Hannah took off the hat and joined the Hufflepuff table, sitting beside Kyle, who hugged her happily.  
  
Blaise's stomach growled softly, demanding food, and she grimaced, hoping the Sorting wouldn't take too long. Her head began to hurt.  
  
"Granger, Hermione!" Minerva called out several people later, and the bushy-haired girl beside Blaise dashed eagerly to the stool to put on the hat.  
  
Blaise began to zone out after a while, not really hearing the names being called. However, many names later, it sounded like leaves had suddenly been blown into a breeze, and Blaise blinked. The black-haired boy with glasses had been called up ("Potter, Harry!"), and people all over the hall were whispering excitedly. The boy was apparently a right little celebrity here in the Magical world.  
  
After a considerably longer time than the other students had taken, the hat finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" to the Hall, and Harry took off the hat and walked, visibly shaking, to the Gryffindor table, where they were cheering very loudly.  
  
A moment later, as Dean Thomas joined the Gryffindor table as well, the only people left were Blaise, another girl (Lisa Turpin, she found out within a second), and the same red-haired boy who had been looking for a compartment earlier. The boy was a pale greenish color, and Blaise shifted away from him a bit, in case he decided to hurl while he was up in front of everyone.  
  
"Weasley, Ronald!" Minerva called out, and Ronald left Blaise's side to put on the hat. He was declared a Gryffindor.  
  
Now Blaise was left standing there, all alone, in front of the whole school. She felt her face go pale.  
  
"Zabini, Blaise!" Minerva called, though there really was no need for her to.  
  
Blaise stepped forward, and taking the hat, sat down on the stool. As she placed the hat on her head, she heard a soft voice in her ear.  
  
"Well, now. What is this? I never imagined him having a daughter. How very interesting.."  
  
'Oh, will you hurry up, you ancient piece of cloth?' Blaise thought. 'I'm starving, and I've been waiting for McGonagall to get through the damn alphabet-'  
  
"Patience, dear, don't let your stomach and headache decide what house you're in. Relax, so I can figure you out."  
  
'I'm always like this. There's nothing to think about.'  
  
"Oh, but there is much more to you than meets the eyes; did you know that?"  
  
'Yeah, yeah. That's great. Now what house do I go in?'  
  
"Hmm. You don't appreciate following the rules, now, do you? .And you are more comfortable being alone, I can see. Now, here is something I cannot understand: you are quite an intelligent child, and yet you want nothing to do with school? Why is that?"  
  
'School's no fun. It's full of those prissy little brats who claim that they are smart, whereas they are actually complete Neanderthals.'  
  
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, my dear. Now, then, I believe I know where to place you. I just hope you do not follow in your father's footsteps.."  
  
'What? What are you t-'  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
This last word was shouted out to the rest of the Great Hall, and Blaise gratefully stood up. She took off the hat before walking over to the Slytherin table and sitting down beside a blond-haired boy.'something' Malfoy, she seemed to recall his name was.  
  
The silver-haired man who sat at the center of the High Table stood up, and beamed at everyone, with his arms opened wide.  
  
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
"_What_?" Blaise stared at the man with an expression of mixed horror and confusion. "Is he off his rocker or something?"  
  
The blond boy sitting next to her shrugged. "My father thinks so. He says he can't believe Dumbledore ever became the Headmaster of this school. Father was in his third year here when Dumbledore took over for Armando Dippet."  
  
"Mm," Blaise responded, not really that interested. "Hey, what was your name again? I kind of.stopped paying attention halfway through the ceremony. It's bloody irritating to have your surname begin with 'z.'" She rolled her eyes.  
  
The boy laughed, dishing some newly appeared food onto his plate and handing her the bowl of salad once he'd served himself. "My name is Draco Malfoy. And you're Blaise Zabini."  
  
"Yep," she replied, as she took a piece of steak. She looked up when she heard Draco hiss suddenly, and jerk in his seat to move a little closer to Blaise, without it being too noticeable. "What is it?" Blaise asked him. Draco was holding his right elbow closer to his side than was normal. Draco nodded his head to his right, a surly expression plastered on his face.  
  
Blaise's eyes widened in disgust and horror as she noticed the ghost sitting to Draco's right. She had to quickly look away before she lost her appetite; the ghost was covered in silver blood, and his eyes were glazed over blankly. His cheekbones protruded from his face, through the tight, smoky-colored skin.  
  
"Never," Draco muttered quietly to Blaise, "touch or put any body part through a ghost."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's bloody freezing!" he explained.  
  
Blaise raised her eyebrow. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that. What are you looking at?" she asked suddenly, as she noticed Draco's eyes had slid past her face to something behind her. She turned to look behind, but didn't see anything except the High Table. She looked back at Draco.  
  
His eyes were back on her face now. "You look kind of like Snape!" he whispered in surprise.  
  
Blaise frowned. "And which one is Snape?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Severus Snape, Head of our House," Draco replied. "He's the one all in black, next to the loon with the purple turban."  
  
Blaise turned and immediately saw whom Draco was talking about. She tensed when Severus turned toward their table, and their eyes locked. Severus narrowed his eyes at her, and she quickly whirled back to face Draco.  
  
"I do not look anything like him!" she exclaimed in a highly affronted tone of voice. "Why, that's the ugliest man I've ever seen in my life! He looks like a corpse or something, and he's just plain _creepy_."  
  
Draco smirked at her. "No, I wasn't talking about those kind of looks, Zabini-"  
  
"_Blaise_," she correctly sharply. "I won't have people calling me Zabini, like I'm not worth them calling me by my given name."  
  
"Please yourself, then, _Blaise_," Draco looked quite amused. "And am I worth enough for you to call _me_ by my given name?"  
  
"If you prove yourself to be, then of course," she replied absently. "Now, what were you saying?"  
  
"Ah, yes. I was saying that it's not really your features, so much as your expression. Like, just now when you raised you eyebrow, I was distinctly reminded of Snape. See, he's an old friend of my father's, so I have met him before at family gatherings and stuff."  
  
"Oh. That's a relief, I suppose," Blaise turned back to her food.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and picked up his goblet of juice. "Girls," he muttered, taking a drink.  
  
"What was that?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Nothing!"  
  
"Fine then."  
  
As the dinner food disappeared a little later, and desserts appeared, Blaise was beginning to feel a little tired. She sleepily ate her chocolate- dipped strawberries, while Draco worked through some raspberry trifle.  
  
When Blaise decided she'd had enough to eat, she pushed her plate a little farther away and rested her elbows on the table, putting her head on her arms.  
  
"Tired?" Draco asked, though it didn't sound like he was very interested in the answer.  
  
"Exhausted," Blaise confirmed, yawning widely behind her hand. "Geeze, how long does it take everyone to eat?" To take up time, she looked up at the High Table and glanced over the teachers. "So, Draco. Is Snape nice?" she asked after a while.  
  
She shifted her head on her arms to stare at Draco when she heard him snort into his drink.  
  
"And what's your problem? It was a simple question, you know."  
  
Draco set his goblet down and turned to Blaise. "Snape," he began, "is not a very sociable bloke. At all."  
  
"Yeah, so? I'm not either, and that's nothing to-"  
  
"Yes, well, I can't imagine you scaring anyone away when you talk to them," he told her.  
  
Blaise grinned. "Oh, so he scared you away once?"  
  
Draco scowled. "Of course not," he retorted snobbishly, as if it was the most ridiculous idea in the world.  
  
"I don't believe you," she countered instantly, gazing at him. "How old were you?"  
  
Draco's scowl deepened, he stared at his empty plate. It looked as if he was pouting. "Six," he muttered softly, an almost unnoticeable blush appearing on his face.  
  
"Aw. What'd he do?" She had propped her chin up on her hands to watch him better.  
  
"You never give up, do you?" he asked irately.  
  
Blaise sat up. "Don't get all hot and bothered about it, Draco. I'm not _that_ interested in what Mr. Meanie Professor did to you when you were an innocent little kid. Although.maybe you weren't so innocent," she grinned at him, and he couldn't help smiling slightly as well.  
  
They stopped talking as the desserts disappeared from the plates, like the dinner had, and Dumbledore stood up once more.  
  
"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.  
  
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.  
  
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.  
  
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.  
  
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."  
  
"Excuse me?" Blaise muttered to Draco. "What's he talking about?"  
  
Draco frowned also. "I don't know. It almost sounds like he's hiding something from us."  
  
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.  
  
Blaise's eyebrows rose as Dumbledore flicked his wand, making a gold ribbon fly out of it and turning into words.  
  
"Everyone pick their favorite tune.and off we go!"  
  
"Oh my god," Blaise murmured, sinking down in her seat.  
  
Draco smirked at her. "So, what do you think of our headmaster?" he asked sarcastically, as the school began to sing the horribly demented words.  
  
When the school was finally finished, Dumbledore announced, "Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"  
  
Blaise and Draco stood up and followed Slytherin's prefect out of the hall. They headed down a passage off of the entrance hall, and then descended some stairs down into what looked like dungeons. The group stopped at a blank stretch of wall, and the prefect turned to face them.  
  
"This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room," he said stiffly. "The password is 't'ser o feht nir et snom.'"  
  
A stone door in the wall that Blaise hadn't noticed before slid open. The prefect led them into the room, which had rough stone walls and ceilings. Round lamps, faintly glowing green, hung from the ceiling on chains. High-backed chairs were arranged around an elaborate fireplace.  
  
"The girls' dormitories are on the left, and down the passageway. The boys' is the same, but on the right. Now get lost," he finished, turning and joining his friends by the fire.  
  
Blaise gratefully followed Millicent Bulstrode, Meredith Nott, and Pansy Parkinson to the left, and they walked down the passageway to the very end, where there was a door with a sign on it saying FIRST YEARS.  
  
Blaise found her trunk by the farthest wall, by a window that looked out over the grounds. The window appeared to be only a few feet from the ground outside. Blaise kicked off her shoes, and was in the process of tugging off her robes when she froze, staring at the dark green four-poster bed.  
  
Meredith came out of the bathroom and pulled back the covers on her own bed, which was next to Blaise's.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked curiously.  
  
Blaise turned to her. "Nothing." To prove it, she climbed onto the bed and pulled the drapes closed. She was still wearing the clothes that had been underneath her robes. She sat in the dark for a few minutes, unmoving. She felt unnaturally high up from the ground, and it unnerved her slightly. She clenched her eyes shut and curled up on the blankets after undoing all of her braids.  
  
Blaise wanted back her own bed, pushed up against the wall and set on the floor so that she didn't have a long fall to the ground. Perhaps in the morning she would ask if something could be done about her bed. But for now, she would just have to hope she did not fall out of bed tonight; the fall would definitely hurt, if the stone floor was any indication.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: It's so much fun to write about Slytherins! *sigh* If there's one thing I don't like about following the book, is that I have to deal with all the dialogue.  
  
Btw, read the Slyth password backwards to see what it means. 


End file.
